


I Thought That Was Just Semantics

by ThroughTheTulips



Series: I don't think that means what you think it means [3]
Category: Stargate - All Series, Stargate Atlantis, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: ABO as alien biology, Alien Cultural Differences, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Crossover, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 09:23:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6652195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThroughTheTulips/pseuds/ThroughTheTulips
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek thought he knew where he and Stiles were headed. He was right... and also very, very wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Thought That Was Just Semantics

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a third one, left it alone hoping I could think of a better ending, then gave up and posted. Hopefully it isn't too awful. I've started writing this as cracky distractions when my other stuff goes badly.

Derek glared at his desk. There was an enticing array of alien tech scattered across its surface, gleaming metal and gemlike controls sparkling temptingly in the bright laboratory lights, but for once he didn’t want to be there. He wanted to be on M9H-323, AKA Beacon, talking to his- talking to Stiles.

That wasn’t an option.

The morning Stiles’ gramoret had broken a cheerful group of masked Beaconites burst into the cozy little den and dragged Derek from a sound sleep. Stiles stirred enough to scowl at them. “Come on, Scotty, you know what I’m going to choose. Do we really have to do this whole thing?”

“Can’t argue with tradition, buddy,” Scott’s voice said from behind a leering wolf-like mask. “Calm down, it’s just one moon.” He shoved Derek playfully. “Move it or we’re carrying you.”

“You’re not supposed to talk to them,” a woman said in exasperation from another mask. “I swear I will send you home if you say one more word.”

No one would speak to Derek after that. They marched him out of the city in nothing more than a bedsheet, singing a weirdly suggestive song about farming at the tops of their lungs. It had way more references to ploughing than he was comfortable with. Worse, what seemed like the entire population of Beacon stood along the path to the Stargate armed with cooking pots and metal spoons. Derek had a bad moment when he thought he might have to fight his way through, but it turned out they just wanted to bang the pots.

Loudly.

All the way to the Stargate.

By the time he caught sight of his team standing by the Gate Derek had a raging headache. Laura had her field camera pointed in his direction, recording the whole procession, and Erica was laughing too hard to stand straight. Even Boyd’s lips twitched a little, though at least he was a good enough friend to offer his uniform top.

Sheriff Stilinski removed his mask to block him. “We haven’t done this through the Ring of the Ancients,” he said, eyes twinkling, “but tradition says all the way home. You wouldn’t want to risk bad luck by breaking tradition, would you, son?”

So of course, because the universe hated him, Derek had to do a cross-planet Walk of Shame in his birthday suit. At least he probably wasn’t the first one. After all, General O’Neill had once been on an active team.

He got the expected amount of teasing back in Atlantis, but that wore off soon enough. Accidental off-world marriages happened so often it wasn’t a huge deal anymore. Uncle Peter had wives on two worlds and a husband on a third. There were even enough surprise children (not to mention four de-aged Marines from that incident on MTX-760) that they’d established a daycare in Sector 4. The most that happened officially was a thorough medical exam, a session with a shrink to decide what he wanted to do, and an application for shared quarters.

Derek filled it out. He didn’t want to jinx anything, but he’d talked to Stiles a lot in those four days. The Beaconite told him his people usually mated for life. Derek thought he stood a pretty good chance of a happy-ever-after.

At least, he thought he did.

Three months later, he was faced with the sinking feeling that he’d never see Stiles again. Eleven times he’d asked to go back to Beacon and eleven times Director Deaton had refused. “Sheriff Stilinski asked us to keep you away until he sent for you,” he said every time the subject came up. “It’s an important custom for them. They call it the ‘Time of Choice’, and it’s very sacred.”

“Your feelings aren’t worth an interplanetary incident, little brother,” Laura would add. “Plus they have a storeroom full of ZPMs. We have to play nice with them if we want a chance at trading.”

So here he sat, alone in his lab. Like he was going to be alone the rest of his life, because there was no way a human was going to hold up to the things he’d done with Stiles. In those four days Stiles had filled in all the empty places in his life. They had connected on what seemed like a cellular level. Derek hadn’t even fantasized about anyone else since. Every single naughty thought had been about Stiles, it was probably bordering on unhealthy. Shit, maybe it _was_ unhealthy. Maybe he had some kind of alien mental STD. He should go back to the shrink or-

“Mr. Hale, I need you in the briefing room.”

Director Deaton’s voice startled him from his increasingly panicked thoughts. He shoved the artifacts away in relief. “Do I need my ready bag?”

There was a distinctly weighty pause. “I don’t believe that will be necessary. You may, however, wish to bring the basket you brought from leave last month.”

Derek’s brain ground to a halt. The basket was something he’d put together for Sheriff Stilinski on a Laura-mandated visit home. It had several different kinds of liquor, some nice cigars, a box of Hostess goodies- basically a sort of crash course in Earth vices. That had been his ninth (failed) excuse to go back to Beacon. “Why would I- are you sure I don’t need my bag?”

“Just get up here, moron,” Laura said through the intercom. “Your future father-in-law is waiting.”

That snapped him right out of his daze. In less than a minute Derek was skidding through the doors of the briefing room with the basket over his arm. Laura and Director Deaton tried to catch his attention, but he was focused on the pair of Beaconites standing as if posed near the flag display.

They looked- a little strange.

Sheriff Stilinski wore the mask from when he’d chased Derek off Beacon. Below that was some kind of tight furred bodysuit that ran from his neck to his bronze boots, with only a sort of kilt to break up the lines of his unsettlingly athletic body.

At least he _had_ lines. Stiles didn’t have a mask, but an engraved wooden hoop rested on his shoulders. Layers of red fabric cascaded from the hoop to the floor, completely obscuring Stiles’ figure. On closer inspection the outermost layer was actually a collection of embroidered panels showing nature scenes. Below it were sheets of something like patterned silk. The effect was something like tribal wedding dresses back on Earth.

Wedding dresses. Derek couldn’t help the ridiculous smile that stretched his lips when he met Stiles’ nervous brown eyes. “You came.”

The younger man relaxed minutely. “Of course. Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“You said one moon,” Derek reminded him. “I thought you changed your mind, that it wasn’t… that I wasn’t what you wanted.”

Stiles ducked his head. “Uh, right. Your sheriff just told us your moon cycles are shorter. See, we have three and a cycle is when all of them-”

“Later, son,” Sheriff Stilinski said from beneath the mask. “Don’t you have something to ask your young man?”

His son nodded and lifted his hands, palm up. The gesture held such weight that Derek suddenly realized what was happening. “We’re doing this right now?” he blurted. “What about his friends? Shouldn’t they be here?”

The Sheriff made an amused sound and said, “We had a moon to say goodbye. Now you have a moon to get settled, and after that we can visit. It’s tradition. I explained this to your sheriff.”

Deaton cleared his throat. “Don’t worry, Mr. Hale, it will be Earth legal,” he said. “As Commander of Atlantis I have legal authority to perform weddings. Providing you haven’t changed your mind, that is.”

Derek shook his head so fast he almost dropped the basket. Embarrassed, he set it down. “That’s for you,” he told the sheriff. “Just some things from home. And yes. Or no, I haven’t changed my mind.”

“Good, cause my hands are getting tired,” Stiles joked. “This fabric is not light.” He caught an unamused head tilt from his father and quickly schooled his features to seriousness. “Right. Uh. Dad, I’m blowing this, can I start over?”

“Just go on, son. You’re doing fine.”

The tenassi licked his lips, making Derek feel dizzy for a moment, and raised his chin. He met Derek’s eyes squarely as he said, “I come to you with a decision in my heart. Will you hear it?”

Wow, wedding vows were poetic on Beacon. Derek felt a fluttery thrill of excitement. “I will.”

“Here it is: I choose you.” Stiles searched the other man’s face intently. “Knowing not what my Choice has been, having only myself to offer, do you still choose me?”

His words were a little confusing (didn’t he just say what his choice was?) but the entreaty in his eyes was clear. Derek swallowed and placed his hands gently over the other man’s. “Still. Always,” he added impulsively, because why not be sappy? It was his wedding day.

Stiles smiled, bright and relieved. “Okay. Okay, so that’s- dad?”

The Sheriff produced a long red ribbon and began winding it around their joined hands in an intricate design. “May your bond be long and fruitful. May it sit as lightly on you as this ribbon, never a burden, always a joy.”

Joy was a good word. Derek felt so much of it he thought he might explode. He grinned back at Stiles. “We have a wedding tradition, too. Ours are sealed with a kiss. Is that allowed?”

Stiles laughed out loud. “We’re mated now, Der,” he pointed out, swinging their bound hands. “We can do whatever we want.”

Kissing him was awkward with their hands tied between them, but Derek managed. It was every bit as good as he remembered.

Laura’s wolf whistle broke them apart. She threw an arm around each of them and pressed a smacking kiss to Derek’s cheek. “Congrats, little bro, and welcome to the family, Stiles.”

“Thanks. Here, Derek, flex your hands like mine.” Puzzled, Derek obeyed and found his hands sliding out of the complex knot. Stiles looked pleased as he caught the falling bundle of ribbon and presented it to his father. “We didn’t even snag a loop! Dad, you have to show Lydia.”

“Don’t think I don’t know she helped you practice that,” the sheriff said, though he also seemed impressed. He picked up the gift basket, set the ribbon knot carefully on top, and clapped Derek on the back. “I’d better be going. See you in a moon cycle, son. Derek, you take care of them or else.”

Sheriff Stilinski was already striding from the room when Derek managed a startled, “Uh, yes, sir.” Director Deaton followed, leaving them alone with Laura. Derek looked around the room. “Is Scott with you?”

“Hmm? Why would Scott come for my mating moon?” Stiles drew his arms into the robes and began doing something that required a lot of squirming. “Here, hold the yoke up while I do the ties.”

Derek grabbed the wooden hoop, still confused. “Your father said ‘take care of them’,” he pointed out. “Is that another language thing?”

“Maybe they change pronouns when they mate,” Laura suggested. “We should ask what yours is now, Der-Bear.”

“It’s not a language thing,” Stiles said slyly. “I told you I made my Choice, Derek, but I didn’t tell you what it was.”

That made exactly zero sense. “I thought you chose me.”

The Beaconite waggled his eyebrows. “I chose _us._ ” Something gave way, and a slit opened down the front of the robes. Stiles stepped out with a flourish. “Surprise.”

For a long, confused moment Derek’s eyes couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing. Stiles had only a pair of loose shorts on beneath the layers of red fabric, which made it very obvious to see how his abdomen bulged gently outward. It looked like… well, he _knew_ what it looked like but of course that wasn’t-

“Are you _pregnant_?” Laura asked, astonished. “I thought you were a man!”

Stiles gave her a funny look. “Uh, I am. A tenassi man. Tenassi have the babies, we went over this already.”

They had? Derek wheeled on his sister. “He told you this?” he demanded. “You knew this was an option?”

“Wait, did you not tell him?” Stiles sounded pissed. “Lydia told me she gave you the whole Sun and Moon talk during my gramoret. You were supposed to fill everyone in!”

She crossed her arms defensively. “I thought she meant it was a fertility rite. Like, a ceremony or something. Guys don’t get pregnant on Earth, you having a baby didn’t even cross my mind.”

“How did it not cross your mind when she said it outright? Ugh, all these years I wanted a sister and now I get the _worst one ever_. That’s it, I’m asking Lydia to be First Moon Mother. At least she listens when-”

“Can I touch it?” The arguing pair stopped, looking at Derek, and he almost chickened out. The curve of Stiles’ body drew him like a magnet, though, so he summoned his courage and said, “Please?”

The younger man’s face went soft. “Yeah, of course.”

He grabbed Derek’s hand and pressed it to his stomach. The skin was hard, surprisingly hard for such a small bump. It felt hot. Derek wondered if that was normal, but he didn’t even know much about pregnancy on Earth.

With a jolt he realized he knew next to nothing about how this was going to work. Would human pre-natal vitamins work on Stiles? What if he needed some vital nutrient he could only get on Beacon? Was this even going to take going to take nine months? There must be a book he could read, or scroll, or wall carvings in some kind of cave or- “I have to talk to Lydia,” he blurted. “I need- I don’t even know what I need to take care of you.”

Stiles laughed, lips curving in a pleased smile. “It can’t be that much different from your people. Besides, we have plenty of time. I might have to shift early, but we have until the third moon at least.”

Derek scratched his head. “You mean you might, uh, deliver early? Is everything okay?”

“If I’m showing already it’s obviously more than one, isn’t it? Wait, is this another new idea? Do your people ever have more than one baby at a time?”

Dazed, Derek could only nod. Laura grinned and ruffled her brother’s hair. “They do sometimes. We’re actually twins.”

“Okay, so, be prepared? We won’t know until they start moving how many there are.”

“We have a scanner that can tell you if you want to know,” Laura said. “It won’t hurt.”

Stiles perked up at once. “Yes! Oh man, that would be awesome. I’d love to know how long I have to be furry.”

Derek stopped trying to play cool. The translator might be acting up, giving him a Beacon word that just _sounded_ like furry, but with their track record… “Stiles, when you say furry, what do you mean?”

Stiles wiggled his belly under Derek’s hand. “It’s just a joke. We call our soulforms that sometimes, the furry ones of us anyway.”

“Your soulform?” Laura asked. “Lydia did mention that word but we were interrupted before she could explain.”

“Are you serious right now? How can you guys not know this, you literally just saw Dad’s and you didn’t-” He stopped and stared at them, then said slowly, “You did notice my dad’s soulform, didn’t you?”

Derek thought hard. The mask had clearly been a mask, he was sure of that, but the furry jumpsuit had been a little _too_ form-fitting. He swallowed. “Are you, uh. Are you a werewolf?”

Stiles blew out his breath, looking completely overwhelmed. “I don’t know what that word means.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Okay. Okay, so, just… here.” His outline shivered, then suddenly blurred as it shrank away from Derek’s hand. In seconds there was nothing where he’d been standing but a pile of squirming cloth. Then a furry head poked through one of the leg holes.

His husband. Who seemed to be some kind of fox.

“Der.” Laura put her hand on his shoulder, still staring at Fox-Stiles as he thrashed around inside the shorts. “I hate to tell you this, but you just outdid Uncle Peter as the weird one of the family.”

As he bent to help Stiles pull free, Derek had to admit she had a point. This was hands-down the weirdest thing that had ever happened to him.

And strangely, he was okay with that.


End file.
